


A Gold and Honey Trap

by witching_wingthorns



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur is a Prat, Bottom Merlin (Merlin), But Also He's Not, Hand Feeding, M/M, Master/Servant, Merlin and Arthur’s Incredible (-y Complicated) Courting Rituals, Messy Feelings, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Arthur, Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Rimming, Smitten Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Tired Merlin (Merlin), Top Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Topping from the Bottom, a little bit of, devoted merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 08:41:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30019125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witching_wingthorns/pseuds/witching_wingthorns
Summary: Arthur reached out and picked up a slice of poached pear, got his mouth and hands all kinds of sticky as he ate it, slow and luxurious, leaving Merlin with nothing to do but kneel there on his stupid bed, holding his stupid tray andwatchinghim, eyes trained on the fingers he was licking clean, his own tongue mindlessly sweeping over his bottom lip to mimic the taste.Arthur lures his innocent, unsuspecting manservant into bed with entirely unfair means. It’s a terrible,terriblehardship for poor, little Merlin.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 196





	A Gold and Honey Trap

**Author's Note:**

> Hellooo lovelies :D <3 
> 
> Here I am, actually posting a porn-y little snack-sized story and while you might think 'Why is that remarkable, get back to your WIP you little cretin' (or even worse, 'Get back to your _thesis_ thorns' D:), it is in fact _quite_ remarkable for the simple reason that _most_ of my porn-y oneshots grow into terrible beasties (*cough cough* my WIP) that take ages to finish and thus most of them only receive a couple thousand words of actual prose before my attention-deficit little mind jumps to something else. Thus my writing folder is full of pretty little things that will never see the day. But look! Look! This one did, here it is, greeting you and being all finished-like and inviting you to read it.
> 
> So! I will stop rambling until the end notes and simply hope that you enjoy it.
> 
> (Oh and WIP readers, don't worry, I _am_ working on that too, I promise. It's just at a pretty intense place, so– Give me time. The next chapter will come!)

The cutlery on the tray rattled as Merlin pushed open the heavy oak door with his shoulder, foregoing the mandatory knock as was his custom. Arthur was already in his bed, the lazy prat, sprawled self-indulgently over his obscenely large collection of lovely, fluffy pillows. He was wearing the soft, cream-coloured night clothes Merlin had dressed him in, foolishly thinking it’d be his last duty of the day, only to hear Arthur purring that actually he was ‘ _peckish_ , Mer _lin_ _so you’ll really have to go fetch me some sweets from the kitchen_ ’.

Merlin had thought immediately that that was complete, fucking _bullshit_.

“Ah,” Arthur sighed as he walked in, clearly pleased with himself already, clearly convinced he’d _won_ already, waving for Merlin to, “Bring that over here, will you?”

“Mm-hm,” Merlin agreed tersely, fighting back the exasperation that wanted to settle on his face as he kicked the door shut behind him, used an elbow to slide the bar in place. He sauntered over to the side of the bed, said false-sweetly, “I’ll just place this here and take my leave then, shall I, Sire?”

Arthur smiled just as falsely in return, said, shamelessly, “Oh, _no thank you_ , Merlin. I’m afraid reaching _all the way_ to my bedside table would prove far too tenuous. _Very_ tiring training session with the knights today, you see.”

“Oh, but _of course_.” Merlin pressed surprise, understanding into his voice, made his smile as stiff and subservient as he could when he continued, “Wouldn’t want you to strain yourself. _Sire_.”

Arthur’s eyes danced with amusement and Merlin had to give him _some_ kind of credit for being so perfectly unrepentant about being such an utter prat. Arthur patted the space beside him on the bed and Merlin suppressed a tired sigh, pushed onto the bed and shuffled forward on his knees, held up the platter for Arthur to choose from.

“ _Quite the selection,_ ” Arthur murmured, deliberating over the arrangement of sweetmeats, fruit and cakes, and it really _was_ , truly worthy of a prince and so incredibly tempting that Merlin had only _just_ stopped himself from stealing from it and only _just_ because he suspected cook might _actually_ have started to have him followed on his way from the kitchen to Arthur’s chambers, given the amount of times she’d caught him when she really shouldn’t have been able to. (Or maybe she _really_ was just _actually_ using magic. Come to think of it, Merlin should probably look into that sometime.)

Arthur reached out and picked up a slice of poached pear, got his mouth and hands all kinds of sticky as he ate it, slow and luxurious, leaving Merlin with nothing to do but kneel there on his stupid bed, holding his stupid tray and _watching_ him, eyes trained on the fingers he was licking clean, his own tongue mindlessly sweeping over his bottom lip to mimic the taste.

Next, Arthur took a small bowl of custard - he liked his desserts like that, in small, neat portions that could be picked off one by one in front of exhausted, famished manservants who had just wanted _to go to bed, damn it_ \- and instead of picking up one of the silver spoons (yes, yes, _silver_ spoons, because princes, apparently, were allergic to honest, solid iron) on the tray, he just dug into it with his tongue, lapping at it with obscene, broad strokes and delicate littlle twirls, looking up at Merlin for half a second before he was done, letting out a content little sigh and putting the bowl back on the tray.

“And how was _your day_ , _Mer_ lin?” he asked conversationally, making Merlin’s mouth twitch with the provocation before he managed to pack his reaction away, if not far enough to stop it from coming through dry and drippingly sarcastic in his voice when he answered,

“Oh, _great_ , Sire. Just really, terrifically _wonderful_.”

Arthur’s mouth quirked up in one side and he twisted his body to nudge Merlin gently in the side with a knee, unfairly boyish and playful about it, tagging on a, “Yeah? Did you do some fun _chores, Merr_ lin? Get those tiny, _tiny_ arms of yours all _nice_ and _tired?_ ”

Merlin was fairly sure he was about one quarter of a second from throwing the sweets aside and throttling the Crown Prince with his tiny _, tiny_ hands.

“Oh _yes,_ Sire. Very, _very_ fun. I just _love_ mucking out after your horses.”

Arthur grinned wider, picked up a couple of candied nuts to lie back, throw them into his mouth with an all too complacent,

“I know, Merlin. I know you do.” He kicked off his boots, poked Merlin in the side with a sock-clad foot. “And how was your _dinner?_ Did Gaius make his famous stew?”

Merlin felt his face go impossibly stiffer, thought his teeth might be snarling at Arthur when he parted his lips to grit out a tense,

“ _Mh-hm._ ”

“Mmh. So I have to assume you’re all nice and full.”

Arthur sat up, knelt so he was at eye level with Merlin, tray between them, hands searching under it to find Merlin’s stomach, almost caressing for a moment before he patted it lightly, driving home his point. Merlin forced his breath a little deeper, forced his irritation to remain in place, didn’t manage to make it half as threatening as he meant for when he said,

“Couldn’t eat another _bite_. _Sire_.”

Arthur licked his upper lip, purred,

“ _Mmh, no_ , I imagine. Not even one- little– _bite_.”

He picked up another slice of poached pear, dangled this one in front of Merlin’s mouth, watched him intently.

Merlin went a bit cross eyed staring at the blurry outline of it, opened his mouth to protest, which was a mistake, _obviously_ , only served to grant Arthur the perfect opportunity to push the treat into his mouth, making sugar-sweetness explode on his tongue, his eyes roll back, his treacherous mouth close over the sweetened fruit and the tips of Arthur’s fingers.

The softened meat of it melted easily in Merlin’s mouth, delicate taste overtaking his senses until it was all gone and he watched as Arthur held his hand up in front of himself, considered the syrup on it for just a second before he was sucking his filthy fingers off one by one, holding Merlin’s gaze this time, the _whole_ time, eyes dark and fiery and positively _unbearable_ to look at, like staring at them might leave sun-burn in his eyes or something much more dangerous blooming at the bottom of his belly.

Arthur picked up a little blackberry tart next, knowing, naturally (because he always seemed to know things when Merlin really rather wished he wouldn’t), that it was one of Merlins’ favourites. He pressed it to Merlin’s lips, watched them open easily for him, allowing the soft, freshly baked crust into his mouth.

Merlin closed his eyes, bit down gently and tasted the butter of the dough, the sour-sweetness of the berries, the cool fat of the cream on top, savoured it all as it blended together in his mouth, into a symphony of flavour so loud and clean his mind went blank with the sheer, beautiful pleasure of it.

There was a vague notion of the bed shifting around Merlin’s knees and then the weight of the tray was lifting, disappearing and Merlin opened his eyes to find Arthur, _just Arthur_ , all up in his face, offering the silver, gem-decorated cup to his lips and Merlin accepted it readily, let Arthur wash down the pie with heated, honeyed wine, felt the warmth of it as it spread like a wildfire through his chest, his stomach, enveloping his whole body until it was soft and pliant for Arthur when he started dragging him backwards, pushing him down so he fell into the bed on his back, endlessly soft mattress stealing the last strains of tension from his body.

“ _You make it so easy, Merlin_ ,” Arthur whispered, lying over him, no cruelty on his face, just that endless, relentless hunger and a hint of that terrible playfulness he always had to wield around Merlin. “You make such a fuss about it. You huff and roll your eyes and _grumble_. And then you yield- so _\- easily._ ” Arthur leant down to lick his chin free off sticky crumbs and stray wine, unleashing a shockwave of goose bumps down over Merlin’s skin. “ _So sweetly._ ”

“ _Fuck- you,_ ” Merlin murmured back, though he was fairly sure he was smiling dopily at this point, _grinning_ even, burrowing into the endless comfort of Arthur’s warm bed while Arthur kissed his way from his jaw to his lips, nipping gently at them before going in properly, hand sneaking in under Merlin’s head to get a firm grip on him, press his tongue in.

Merlin let out a content sigh, curled his legs around Arthur’s hips, only to find Arthur drawing back a bit, trying to unlace Merlin’s shirt and haul it over his head. Merlin squirmed around, tried to help, wasn’t entirely sure he was succeeding, especially not when Arthur let out a little snort, murmured, “Just lie _still_ , Merlin _, honestly_.” And alright, alright, Merlin did and Arthur finally managed to get the damn thing off him, ran his hands over the flat plane of his upper body for an impatient moment before he was shifting down to rid Merlin of his pants as well, opening them quickly and dragging them down along with his smalls and boots and socks to leave him completely bare.

There was something about the way Arthur regarded him in moments like these that kindled something in Merlin. There was lust there, obviously, but– Well, it wasn’t just that, it was…

Indescribable, probably.

Endlessly sweet. Fragile in a way that had him wanting to cover it up, hold it over his head, away from Arthur’s sticky, greedy hands, saying _no, no, no, not this part, not_ this _one, you can have everything else,_ everything _,_ everything _but_ this _one_ , only to find himself always…

Always _yielding_. And always far too easily.

Arthur was dipping his fingers in the little bowl of honey now, letting his hand hover over Merlin, wiggling his fingers to make heavy drops and small rivulets of thick, golden liquid fall on him, creating a pathway that Arthur was soon following with his mouth, starting at Merlin’s chest where his warm tongue twirled around a nipple, had Merlin seeing stars and angels and every fucking god ever created, crying out a hoarse, “ _Arthur_.”

Arthur stopped suckling on him for a moment, looked up to find Merlin’s eyes, ask,

“You like this, Merlin?” He bit his bottom lip, let his finger rub over the nipple in place of his tongue. “ _You want it?_ ”

And Merlin had no choice but to nod feverishly, push Arthur’s head back into his body, wonder with some amount of frustration why he _always_ had to do it like this; Pulling and playing and pushing for it until Merlin was losing his damn mind and then abruptly losing his supreme confidence _just_ when he’d gotten what he’d wanted, needing Merlin to tell him that yes, _yes_ , of _course_ , he wanted to be here, always _, always_ wanted to be here, couldn’t ever _not_.

Arthur kept looking apprehensive, eventually gave into the pressure of Merlin’s hand and leant down to lick another broad swipe over Merlin’s peaked nipple. Merlin held on tight to the golden lockes intertwined with his fingers, moaned far too loud when Arthur finally sucked him into his mouth again, pressure sweet and wonderful, hand sneaking down to get at Merlin’s arse, kneading at it until Merlin felt dizzy and shivery with it all, needed that mouth somewhere _else_ and started pushing Arthur down along his chest.

Arthur let himself be lead but went slow enough that he had time to lick and suck at the remaining honey, face completely filthy with it when he reached Merlin’s cock, looking up and letting that broad, terrible tongue run over its length.

The world gradually lost its sharpness, made Arthur as fuzzy as the pear had been, and Merlin stopped pushing at some point, just lay back, braced his hands in the sheets and hazily followed Arthur’s movements, watched as Arthur eventually reached out for the honey again, dipped his fingers and smiled crookedly with a fake, little, “ _Oops,_ ” when a larger dollop of it fell from them, curled around Merlin’s balls and was about to drip under him, onto the mattress when Arthur grabbed his legs and pushed them up into his chest, bending the path of the honey, moving it to where he’d wanted it.

He held Merlin’s eyes for a long moment, watched as he shivered for him, then leant down to spread Merlin’s cheeks apart and clean up the mess he’d made, tongue delving in where it’d only been once or twice before, where Merlin had loved it every time, loved it again today, shivered and cried out for it and _needed_ it, suddenly, like he needed to _breathe_ , felt like the breathing could wait actually, if he could just have Arthur closer, deeper, warmer, _wetter_ like this, further and further and further inside of him.

He didn’t have to wait long for that, soon felt Arthur’s oil-slicked fingers probing at him too, switching place with his tongue and fucking into him, slow and unhurried at first, then more forceful in their movement until the rest of Arthur’s hand was crashing into him as well, curled-up fingers brushing the sides of his sitting bones, hitting some nerve that made him feel almost as good as the penetration did, made him long for _more_ of Arthur, for a harder, _heavier_ collision, had him curling a hand around his arm and pulling, pleading, looking at him with a half-formed ‘ _please_ ’ on his lips.

Arthur looked up, eyes sharp and overtaking, didn’t stop moving in him but did move up, stroked Merlin’s cheek with his other hand and brushed his lips over Merlin’s to ask, again,

“ _You want it, pet?_ ” He sunk a bit closer, closed his lips around Merlin’s bottom one, let his fingers pause inside Merlin for a moment, circling the spot they always had to seek out. “ _You want me in you?_ ”

Merlin exhaled slow and shaky, nodded and grabbed Arthur’s nape to hold him close, let his breath brush fluttering and hot against his cheek when he murmured, “ _Need it, Arthur._ ”

Arthur smiled, soft and affectionate, shifted to withdraw his fingers, to rustle around with his trousers and smalls for a moment, dip his fingers in some more oil on the bedside table and then there was a blunt pressure at Merlin’s entrance, wide enough to make him take a deep breath, close his eyes and force his body into relaxation until Arthur started breaching him slowly, soft clothes gliding over Merlin’s bare skin, eyes trained on Merlin’s face. Merlin knew they were, didn’t need his sight for that, would have known the intense focus of that gaze anywhere in the world.

“ _Merlin_.”

“Mmh,” Merlin answered, sighing a bit with it, opening his eyes to see Arthur looking lost like he always did in that moment, overcome with pleasure or power or…

(Or _other_ _things_ , things that Merlin would do best not to imagine his prince might be feeling, not in moments like these.)

“’S okay, Arthur. Just–” Merlin shifted his legs up on Arthur’s hips, drew him in until he was fully seated, the pleasure of it hitting like a heavy, steel mace, made Merlin tighten his hold on Arthur’s neck, pull him in until their foreheads were meeting, pressing against each other. “Just– _fuck me._ Yeah? Like you’ve wanted to. I know how you have, how you’re always, _always_ -”

The next word was cut short by a sharp inhale, by Arthur pulling out and crashing in so fast and forceful it had sparkly, little spots dancing in Merlin’s vision, his legs tightening around Arthur, head angling to get his mouth closer, searching for the kiss that Arthur readily gave him, messy and deep and full of tongue and teeth, possesive in a way that had Merlin thinking all kinds of dangerous thoughts, longing for all kinds of terribly undignified things.

Things like being demoted to someone who could spend their entire day just lounging in Arthur’s chambers, nothing to do but warm his soft bed, always ready and naked and waiting for him. With no-one to be but Arthur’s, just something to be used by him, no purpose but that, no great, terrible destiny to weigh on his smarting shoulders or drag at the dark under his eyes until he felt like he could just lie down on the ground and curl up, pass out from the sheer exhaustion of it all.

Merlin pushed up with his hands a bit, did it until Arthur paused, looked at him with a bit of a question pressing against his brows. Merlin smiled gently at him, then pushed again, off the mattress and at Arthur’s side, until they were turning over, Merlin settling in Arthur’s lap with his hands on his chest.

“ _Tell me how you want it, Sire._ ”

Arthur didn’t reply, just looked at him, wide-eyed and a bit surprised, hands coming to a fidgety rest on his hips, thumbs circling the bone there.

“Like this?” Merlin started moving his hips in slow circles, just gyrating around, around, around, until he gradually started changing that movement so that his whole body was rolling forwards, slow wave starting at his chest and moving down to his hips, dragging Arthur’s cock back and, back and forth, and then he changed it again, added a vertical component and tensed up a bit, let his hole drag slow up and down, up and down, just like that, _just like that_ until Arthur looked fucking _dizzy_ and gone with it, closed his eyes and breathed low and ragged.

“ _Tell me, Arthur_.” Merlin bent down to him, kept up the movement, whispered, “ _Tell me how good I am for you. Tell me how I make you feel_.”

Arthur opened his eyes, looked startled, still, stuttered, “ _Good_ , Merlin, so–” He gasped as Merlin pushed more forcefully back at him, tightened his fingers into Merlin’s sides, _still_ didn’t move. “So fucking–”

Merlin kissed him, hard and angry, not with Arthur, not really, just with how _difficult_ everything had to fucking be, how complicated his _life_ had to be, when there was _this_ , when there was an imagined reality where he could just _have this_ , all the time just this, _just this_ , this _, this,_ _this, this_.

He picked up the pace, slammed back into Arthur over and over, watched with immense satisfaction as Arthur gasped and squeezed his eyes shut, struggled to hold on until his hands were flailing, losing their grip on Merlin’s hips to fall into the sheets instead, cramping uselessly into smooth fabric.

“ _Merlin_.”

“Yeah,” Merlin answered, biting his lip and looking down at his helpless prince. He wet one of his thumbs and circled it over a raised nipple, felt it all over when Arthur, shivered, stuttered,

“I’m– Merlin, I can’t- _can’t–_ ”

Merlin let himself fall forwards, one hand above Arthur’s head, sped up the pace again, gripped Arthur’s chin to say,

“Then don’t. Just _come_ for me, Arthur _,_ come _,_ _come–_ ” and Arthur did, beautifully, like Merlin was punching it out of him, like it was borderline torture, Merlin moving and moving and moving, keeping him going until he was tightening his grip on Merlin’s hips again, whining softly, quietly begging for reprieve.

And Merlin did stop, was nice like that, took himself in hand instead and stroked furiously, wished Arthur was still fully hard inside him but could happily, _happily_ settle for this, could have come from just the memory of it; Arthur just lying there, easy and pliant (for _once_ in his _damned, troublesome life_ ), hazy, astonished and _staring_ at Merlin while he pleasured himself, thought about coming all over Arthur’s chest like this, hadn’t done that before and thought about how _filthy_ he could get that fine-threaded, clean shirt, whether he could manage to get all the way up to Arthur’s–

And that was too much to think about, too much to bear and Merlin shot all over Arthur’s torso, watched as the pearly-white ropes of it covered him, _did_ in fact get it all the way up to his chin, and he fell forwards right after, caught himself on a hand above Arthur’s head, caught his breath in hard, gulping gasps, let his other hand grasp weakly at Arthur’s hair for something to hold on to.

A moment after, he fell to the side, Arthur’s softened length slipping out of him easily. He landed on his back there, breathed hard until his pulse started settling, afterglow coming in soft and comforting, like a warm, woolen blanket curling around his body, slowing his mind.

Arthur eventually turned his head to him, blinking, slow and mindless for at least half a minute before he was hauling him in with a heavy, sure hand, pulling his bottom lip in soft and warm between his own, kept kissing him like that, all weird and gentle about it, brushing his nose against Merlin’s when he withdrew again.

Merlin watched him for a moment, tried to quiet the unwelcome swarm of butterflies that apparently thought it had been allowed residence in his stomach. He screwed his mouth into a wry, cheeky smile, said,

“ _So_. You _liked_ that,” in a way that was probably meant to make Arthur embarrassed about it, didn’t accomplish much more than making him grin back at Merlin, say a sweet little,

“ _Yeah_ ,” while he bit his lip, pushed a lock of hair out of Merlin’s face.

He kept his hand there, tapped a finger against the shell of Merlin’s ear and looked _thoughtful_ , suddenly, less in the way that made Merlin want to tease him about his pitiful lack of intellect and more in the way that often had the unfortunate after-effect of making Merlin feel all kinds of miserable with even the smallest measure of distance between them.

“Merlin,” he said, ominously, and Merlin bit his lip, thought over what Gaius had asked him to do today, whether any of it might make for a suitable excuse for getting up. Thought perhaps he had caught a lucky break when Arthur turned to his side to say something more and was distracted by the wet mess on his shirt clinging to his skin.

Arthur made a face, looked so exquisitely adorable with it that Merlin had to stifle a delighted laugh, mirth curling up his face when Arthur looked up to glare at him, finally took the stupid thing off, used its dry side to wipe himself clean and threw it across the room, no doubt expecting Merlin to wash it later.

He was, however, frighteningly fast to get back on subject, settled back on his side, and stared far too intensely into Merlin’s eyes when he said,

“Merlin. Are you–” He chewed his lip, looked like someone searching for the right words, and Merlin started thinking about chores again, felt like it was increasingly important, felt the urge to get out crawling and prickling under his skin.

“I mean, obviously you’re all–” Arthur did a weird waving thing that was probably supposed to signify _something_ , carried on, “ _Well_ , _you know._ But I was thinking-”

“I _don’t_ know, actually,” Merlin said because he was a stupid, contrary idiot who was all too curious about what Arthur was trying to say. “What is it that I am?”

Arthur frowned, chewed on his lip, searched Merlin’s face with a hesitant hand, moved his thumb over an eyebrow, a cheekbone.

“Well, you know,” he muttered, “All… _sharp_. Like a– thunderstorm.”

Merlin snorted, felt like maybe it was a perfectly good occasion to mock Arthur’s intelligence after all.

“Thunderstorms are _sharp…?_ ”

Arthur scowled at him, looked flustered and frustrated in that way he did when he didn’t know how to express himself.

“ _No_ , just–” He huffed, moved his hand to pinch lightly at Merlin’s arm in retaliation. “I just _mean_. You spend all this time being soft and silly and pretending you’re _stupid_ , and– And sometimes I forget, that you’re, well _you know_ … All _sharp_. Like a really good- _blade_.”

Merlin chewed his own lip, didn’t like these moments, when Arthur reminded him just how much he saw, that he was in fact _not_ stupid, no more than Merlin was, that he was terribly close to _knowing_ Merlin like no-one did or had, that there was a world, _maybe_ , where Merlin _could_ be his–

_Blade._ Or well…

Maybe Merlin was the one getting confused by the metaphors now.

Or maybe he really, really _wasn’t_.

“But I think,” Arthur said, pulling Merlin out of his reverie, out of an image of Arthur in gleaming scale mail, billowing red cape on his back, heavy crown on his head, Merlin at his side like a terrible, golden beast, air around him trembling and over-saturated with magic, eyes glowing with threat to anyone who might try to stand in their way. “Well, I think today, you weren’t just- I think you were _unhappy_ about something. _So–_ I’d like to know what it is.”

Merlin fidgeted with a nail he was suddenly starting to think he ought to cut back, felt his heart do a double-take, didn’t know what to _do_ with this, with Arthur being so- _earnest_ and blunt and– _thoughtful_. Not that he never was, just–

Just _usually_ it came through in weird, backwards gestures and over-rough touches, not _this_ , not forward, direct conversation about Merlin’s–

_Feelings_.

“Arthur, I’m– _fine_ , really, it’s not…”

The words trailed off, died out with the disappointed look on Arthur’s face, the dejection that came through in his words when he said,

“I don’t like it when you lie to me, Merlin.” He shifted his hand on Merlin’s face, brushed his thumb over his lower lip, frowned, almost sort of sighed with it when he continued, “I know that you do sometimes. And I just… I just wish that you _wouldn’t_.”

Merlin felt his breathing go stuttering and erratic, felt Arthur’s words like a rusty, blunt knife tearing into his stomach, unintentional with its path, without proper aim, _surely_ , but still somehow managing to hit the worst possible spot, tearing into years and years and years of horrible, twisted-up _secrets_ , secrets that Merlin had never _wanted_ , never fucking _asked_ to be the keeper of.

“I–” he said, found himself choking on it, found his stupid, treacherous eyes filling with water and Arthur’s eyes were widening in surprised now, his hand using its hold to draw Merlin in, cradle him protectively against his chest.

“ _Hey_. Hey, _easy_ , Merlin, _easy_.”

Merlin shook, shivered, tried to hold on and thought he really _couldn’t_ this time, felt every overworked, over-full thing inside of him threaten to burst open and spill over, like a tornado in a glass jar spinning and spinning and spinning until the walls were showing cracks, the whole thing getting ready to just-

He took a deep breath, pushed himself out from Arthur’s heavy arms, wiped the eyes that he’d almost managed not to get wet.

“Arthur, if I just–” He took another deep breath, pushed his fingers against the firm, supple muscle at Arthur’s chest, through the soft hair there, tried to make it more steady, to find the courage he needed when asking the following, “If I just told you I was– _yours_.” He looked up, found Arthur’s still, deep, sea-blue eyes, thought he really wasn’t going to survive that savage pull in his stomach this time, clawing and slashing and pushing at his innards just to make space for that red-hot, awful sense of _longing_ that was releasing, expanding until it felt like it was filling up his entire being. “Would you believe me?”

Arthur said nothing, just stared at him, hand frozen at the side of his face.

Then, from one fraction of a second to the next, he sprang into action, rolled Merlin over and settled on top of him, wild-eyed but– _stilling_ again, watching, waiting, like a feral cat poised over its prey, waiting for it to move again.

And well…

“If I asked you to- to _promise_ that no matter what, no matter what might- _happen_ , that you’d still believe, would always, _always_ believe that I-”

“ _Merlin_ -”

“- that I am _yours_ before I’m– _anything_ else.”

Arthur was breathing hard, heavy, staring at Merlin like he was trying to burn through him with his gaze alone, like Merlin was _defying_ him, somehow, by offering everything he was to him.

Merlin squirmed under it, forced himself to keep up that eye contact, to not back down and fold from decision he’d made.

“If I do,” Arthur said finally, still not _moving_ , not softening from his taut, ready state. “Will you tell me what you’re hiding?”

Merlin’s stomach twisted at that, realisation hitting him only now, that even by doing this, surrendering in this sideways fashion, he would still be required to _do that._ That _any_ road he took, any at all that included staying by Arthur’s side, they would _all_ require him to do that, would all inevitably lead to this cursed question.

He chewed on his lip for a moment, then forced his neck to move, to make his head nod slow and rigid, wishing there was some way to just tear open his chest and let Arthur _look_ so he didn’t have to _tell_.

There was a pull at Arthur’s mouth now, not a _smile_ , not really, but maybe _sort of_ in that direction, and then finally, _finally_ some kind of relaxation, his body lowering down to allow their lips to touch again. Merlin lay still, felt a bit petrified, a bit helpless with it all, just _let_ Arthur when he started nibbling at his lips, liked it like that anyways, was perhaps still not very good at getting there but felt some kind of relief when he managed to make his body lax, his mind soft like this.

The kisses changed in nature, gradually, tension in Arthur’s frame not quite gone yet, flowing down through him, until he was pulling at Merlin’s hair to hold him, open him, diving in with his tongue to demand more, more, more, and Merlin was still barely reciprocating, just opening, _letting_ him, letting him, _letting him, letting him, letting him, letting him_.

“ _Arthur_ ,” he said eventually, creepingly afraid that the conversation was bleeding out, ending here prematurely. “Arthur, I really need- Will you–”

“ _Yes._ ” The reply was sharp, almost, but not quite angry, followed by Arthur drawing back, looking at him with thunder in his eyes, a mad, hungry smile stretching his lips. “How can I not?” He dived back down, didn’t so much kiss as _bite_ , just once, twice at Merlin’s bottom lip, hard enough that it _hurt_ , that Merlin had a faint taste of iron in his mouth after. “How can I say _no_ , Merlin?”

Merlin felt the corner of his mouth twitch up, felt some kind of thunderous sense of triumph threatening to burst out in his chest. He hadn’t really thought _this_ when he’d said what he had, hadn’t been trying to _do_ this, but here they were and Arthur had never looked so out of his mind with his desire to _have_ and Merlin couldn’t say he regretted it for the tiniest, little second.

“ _You’re such a greedy fool, Arthur,_ ” is what he did say, and Arthur snarled a bit, grinned at him, took his arms and dragged them over his head.

“ _Yes_ ” was his answer and then a broad hand was dragging roughly down over Merlin’s stomach, callouses coarse on soft skin, mean fingers twisting a nipple on the way up. “I’ll have it all,” he mumbled and Merlin wasn’t entirely sure if it was a declaration or a question, but, “I’ll have it– _All_ , Merlin, I _will,_ ” and Merlin couldn’t do anything but smile, properly now, teeth sharp with it, making a feeble attempt at getting his hands back from Arthur’s tight grip, just to show Arthur that he _couldn’t_ , that he was trapped like this, all bared and defenseless for him.

“ _Yes_ ,” he whispered, brushing his nose against Arthur’s, definitely _trying_ now, couldn’t imagine anything more pleasing than Arthur making a boundless, reckless promise like this from the sheer, fucking _want_ of it, had imagined he might out of _trust_ , but _this_ –

“Yes, _Master_. All you have to do-” He leant in, arched up, caught Arthur’s lips in a sweet, slow kiss, whispered, “- _is promise_.”

“ _I_ –” Arthur looked dizzy, a bit delirious with it, was all hoarse and dry-throated when he finally said, “I do– _promise._ I promise that you’re- mine. That no matter what happens, no matter what you tell me, just- You’ll just– Just _mine, Merlin, mine to keep and take and have and care_ for like- like _this_ , just _like this, just like- just like–_ ”

He rushed back down, kissed Merlin ravenously, like he might _die_ without it, and this time, _this time_ Merlin kissed him back, angling his head into it, pressing up as far as he could, pulling in his restraint and _feasting_ on it all, didn’t understand how he could have wielded magic like no-one before him, whole body thrumming and trembling with it, the _ground_ fucking shaking with it, and still not have felt a fraction of the power-high he felt now, his prince so drunk and gone in him that he’d offer his unconditional trust no matter the depth of treason that Merlin might be hiding, _was_ in fact hiding.

“ _Arthur_.”

Arthur drew back, looked all kinds of messy with his sex-mussed hair, wide eyes, puffy-red lips.

“Yeah?”

Merlin smiled, traced the side of his face with the palm of his hand.

“I never… _liked_ lying to you. Never wanted to.”

Arthur smiled back, cupped the back of Merlin’s hand with his own, kissed the heel of it, the middle, the tips of his fingers.

“So, will you-”

“Tomorrow.” Merlin bit his lip, took a deep breath when Arthur licked up the last joint of his thumb, let his hot, wet mouth glide down over it. “I’ll tell you– _tomorrow_. Is that alright?”

Arthur just smiled again, nodded slowly, took back Merlin’s hand and reached out for the honey jar to pour the last of its contents out over the tips of Merlin’s fingers, watched patiently as it trickled down, slow and viscous, waited until it reached the wrist and then started lapping it up, bathing, cleaning Merlin’s hand until it was filthy and slick with Arthur’s spit instead of the honey.

Merlin exhaled hard, air streaming out between barely parted lips, watched with hooded eyes as he murmured,

“ _Are you… gonna fuck me again?_ ”

Arthur looked down, watched him for a moment with twinkling, blown-out eyes, a small smile that curled up on one side of his mouth.

“Yeah,” he said simply, turning his attention back to Merlin’s hand, sucking his index and middle finger in, swirling his tongue over the tips to get at the last, stray bits of honey. “In the morning.”

He flopped down into the bed, next to Merlin, pulled him in for a slow kiss.

“ _Mmmh_ ,” Merlin hummed into it, withdrew to fit himself into the crook of Arthur’s shoulder, relishing in the hot, damp skin burning under his cheek, breathing deep to take Arthur in. “All things in… in good time then.”

“Yeah _._ ” Arthur kissed his forehead, his temple, ran a hand through his hair. “And don’t worry, Merlin. It’ll be alright. It _all_ will.”

Merlin smiled into his skin, shuffled down further to press his face into the dip of Arthur’s throat, fitting perfectly there, Arthur’s chin grazing the top of his head, his arms wrapping carefully around his shoulders. He sighed, kissed the skin under his lips softly, circled his arms around Arthur in return to hold him tight and close.

“ _I know_ ,” he whispered, found that he meant it, that the day he’d been dreading for years and years was finally creeping up on him, heavy and inevitable. And he wasn’t afraid.

For the first time in a long time, he just _wasn’t_ _afraid_.

**Author's Note:**

> Hellooo again :D 
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed that! If you diiiid, I would be veeerrry grateful for a comment down below ⬇️ or a little press on that pretty kudos-button 🥰
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you all have a lovely day! 💕


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